The Hands of Prophecy
by BarbedCaress
Summary: Voldemort issued his ultimatum. Surrender Potter or I will kill you all. A different ending for the Battle of Hogwarts. Rated T for safety. Dark humor.


**Disclaimer:** All Hail JKR, who is not me and not my wife, or even close kin. The Harry Potter Universe belongs to her in all its Glory. I just play on the beaches, making my sandcastles when I have the time.

 **Further disclaimer:** THIS IS SHORT! It is a plot bunny that would not go away until I fed it. This is not beta'd. Any mistakes are 100% me. I hope you find it at least a little humorous, which is my intention.

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Lord Voldemort felt the anti-portkey wards go up, followed immediately by the anti-apparition wards. Tom laughed to himself. They were trying to keep HIM from running away? As if he would run when on the verge of victory!

Harry Potter was dead. He had given himself up to save the school. Or did he? When Harry came to Tom he was wandless and handless. Why would they cut off his hands? Maybe they wanted to make sure Harry marched to his death. Without hands, he certainly could not fight! Plus the thrice damned Prophecy said "either must die at the HAND of the other". Well, without hands, that was never going to go in Potter's favor! Tom giggled at his inner monologue.

Regardless, an AK later and Narcissa confirmed the boy was no longer a threat. D E A D

Now, standing at the gates of Hogwarts, the remaining defenders standing in a ragged defensive line before him and his forces. The boy's body carried by the half-giant to show their savior could not even save himself.

Coming to a stop, Lord Voldemort amplified his voice so it was heard clearly by all.

"I give you one last chance to save your lives. Surrender to the inevitable. Bow down before Lord Voldemort and I shall be merciful. Your champion is dead. Only by the 'hand' of Potter could I be defeated. Without him, you are doomed. Join me!"

Neville steps forward, "Then we shall share Harry's fate!" he shouts.

Neville puts a vial he had concealed in his left hand to his lips and drinks deeply. As he does so, all the defenders do the same, most immediately falling to their knees, doubled over in obvious pain.

Voldemort watches in fascination. They have chosen as a group to commit suicide rather than join him? They should have fought on, if that were their intention. They might have killed another few dozen of his death eaters. Now what did they have to show for their final act of defiance? More than a hundred bodies lying in a jagged row before him. If only Harry had joined him. Anyone who could inspire such devotion in his followers would have been a great asset. Britain would have fallen in days! Tom shakes his head sadly at the waste of resources.

"What's this?" Voldemort cries in a startled voice.

The defenders are rising to their feet once more. They are raising their wands and pointing them at him. Behind every wand is the face of Harry Potter!

"What dark magic is this?" Voldemort mutters, so softly only Neville of the defenders can hear his query.

"Nothing dark about it, Tom" Neville snarks, "Just plain old every day polyjuice. Made just for your visit. Peter gave you his hand to help resurrect you. Harry gave us BOTH his hands to help lay you to rest. AVADA KADAVRA!"

Green lances of light leaped from every defenders wand. Every defender had been hurt. All had seen friends and family die because of Tom Riddle. All had hatred to spare to cast the killing curse.

Lord Voldemort hit his emergency portkey as he spun to apparate, only then did he remember the 'useless' wards he had felt go up. That realization was the last thought to cross Tom's mind as more than a hundred killing curses speared his body. Through their connection via their Marks, every death eater on the field died as the overload of magic flowed outward from Voldemort.

All the attackers who had not died in the instant realized they could no longer win or even escape. They raised their empty hands high above their heads as they surrendered en masse.

Harry Potter, the real Harry Potter, raised his head from Hagrid's chest as he coughed loudly.

The silence of the grave lay on the battlefield as the attackers looked on in fear: each could see Harry moving.

More than a hundred Harry Potter's prayed for the miracle they had all hoped for, Harry not being dead.

"I told the Headmaster the Prophecy might be literal." Harry laughed.

The defenders laughed and started rounding up the nearly catatonic attackers.

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 **AN:** If this amused you, please review. Thanks!  
Now back to writing my main story!  
(If I am not ambushed by another rabid plot bunny!)


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